The Naked-Truth;
OR, A
New Song without a Lye
Tune of, Old Simon the King: Or, The Character of sundry Trades and Callings.
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THo Trading we find in the City,
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and many more places, is bad,
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Yet here I will sing a fine Ditty,
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wed as good be merry as sad:
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Of several Trades I will treat,
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and will with [t]he Butcher begin,
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With what kind of Trade shall he meet,
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if he had neither Carcass nor Skin,
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All you that are now in this Throng,
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I reckon to do you no wrong,
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Believe me, I pray, by yea and by nay,
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there is not a lye in this Song.
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A Weaver without Loom or Shuttle,
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like one out of may lye by,
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A Tinker without any Mettal,
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no woman will ever imploy:
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A Cobler without St. Hughs bones,
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he cannot mend Old, or make New,
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A Pavier without any Stones,
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Oh, what is he able to do?
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All you that are now in this Throng, etc.
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A Man that is quite Moneyless,
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thro Crowds he in safety may pass,
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A Cook that hath no meet to Dress,
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he need not stand making of Sawce.
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A Taylor without ere a Yard,
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his bodkin, goose, thimble and sheers,
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Youll find that he is as much Marrd,
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as if he had lost both his Ears:
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All you that are now, etc.
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A Fisher-man without a Net,
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you know he can catch but a few,
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But yet his good wife she will fret,
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when ever she wants of her due:
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The jolly brisk Baker is one,
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to whom the young Lasses do troule,
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So that he is clearly undone,
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if he has not a Rusling-Pole:
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All you that are now, etc.
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The Millers for taking to task
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the Mistress or Gillian the Maid,
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The Cooper without Hoops or Cask,
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he cannot well follow his Trade:
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The Poet without ere a Muse,
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can never make Sonnets compleat,
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A Foot-man without Pumps or Shoes,
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will certainly blister his feet:
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All you that are now, etc.
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A Scrivener without Ink or Pen,
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his bonds and his Letters cant write,
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A Captain that lost all his men,
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will have but small stomach to fight:
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The man that shall marry for Gold,
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and brings home a Shrew to his bed,
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Both Morning, Noon, Night she will scold,
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and still have a Noise in her head,
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All you that are now, etc.
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The Chimney-Sweeper pray dont scoff,
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for if he hath Shackles and Poles,
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Hell call to the Maids each morn,
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to scoure and cleanse their black holes:
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That man that is naked indeed,
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he is not like Taylors, and those,
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For tho he has nere so much need,
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he is not for pawning his Cloaths:
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All you that are now, etc.
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A Gallant that has a good Coat,
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twill help him out at a dead lift,
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A Sculler that has ner a boat,
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he fears not Running a Drift;
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Some Sharpers a Calling does me,
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tis Robbing Rich Men of their store,
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But he that has nothing to loose,
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he needs not a watch at his door.
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All you that are now, etc.
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I ner was brought up for to Lye,
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and therefore I tell you the truth,
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My ballads Id have you to buy,
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theyre fit for Diversion of Youth:
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My Pocket with Cole to encrease,
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let every young-man and maid,
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Now lay out a penny a piece,
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and then I shall have a good trade.
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All you that are now in this Throng,
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Ill do you no manner of wrong,
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Believe me, I pray, by yea and by nay,
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there is not a lye in this Song.
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